


No Capes

by dedkake



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, M/M, Rivalry, Superheroes, Supervillains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OR Five Times the Cape Almost Killed Magneto and One Time It Almost Ruined His Life (Or Did It?)</p>
<p>Professor X really thinks that Magneto should rethink his supervillain fashion if he wants to be taken seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Capes

**Author's Note:**

> Made [this prompt](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/8074.html?thread=16567946#t16567946) from the kink meme into a superhero!Charles versus supervillain!Erik fic. Based on that one scene in Disney's The Incredibles.
> 
> (Also please excuse the completely handwavy use of Magneto's powers)

5.

Professor X grits his teeth in frustration as he stands with a fireman next to the burning building. There’s a man on the fourth floor who’s locked in his bathroom and X can do nothing but alert the fireman, who immediately calls for the ladder and an entry party. It’s times like these when X hates that he was born with telepathy and not super strength or at least complementary telekinesis. He’s almost completely useless in the face of the fire, unable to do much more than scan the building for any other residents and comfort the victims.

The fireman at the top of the ladder lets out a startled yell that draws X’s attention and cries, “It’s Magneto!”

X is up the ladder before he can even think about it, leaving the frantic minds of the crowd behind him. This is something he can deal with, Magneto and his crazy idealism. Even if he can’t get into his head with that god awful helmet in place, he knows they’re more than matched.

There are two firemen standing by the window inside as flames lick around the room and the building groans. Magneto is standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed and smirking. Taking a quick sweep of the room, X understands the scene perfectly. Magneto is here to prove a point, as he _always_ is, most likely to the man locked in the bathroom behind him, and there’s nothing these firemen will be able to do to stop him. It’s up to X to mediate, and if he’s right, which he most often is, it won’t be too difficult, even with the fire raging around them.

“Ah, Professor, how good of you to join us,” Magneto says amiably, and waves a hand, sending a lamp crashing into the wall next to the firemen.

“Magneto,” X says in greeting, returning the smile easily, but shifting into a more defensive stance and shielding his mind from the panic of the firemen. “Will you let these fine men rescue the poor soul in the bathroom and leave before we start?”

Letting out an overly long sigh, Magneto glances between the bathroom door and the firemen. After a moment, he says, “I suppose I’ve gotten my message across,” and flicks the magnetized door open with his pinky.

X rolls his eyes at the melodramatic action, but presses his fingers to his temple to calm the man in the bathroom and guide him to the firemen, who lead him out the window with a quiet, “Thanks, Professor!”

“Now, where were we?” X asks when they’re alone. He’s still smiling; he can’t help it. As unnecessary and violent as Magneto’s actions are, X enjoys their encounters. Magneto is intelligent and he never does anything without a specific goal in mind—goals focused on mutant rights, not simply world-domination. Even X can’t argue with Magneto’s choice in targets most of the time, just with his methods.

Striding across the room and closer to X, Magneto says, “There’s no need for anything between us now. The files are already destroyed and now he knows I know who he is and what he does.”

Relaxing his stance slightly, X says, “I’m going to have to take you in, you know, since you decided it was necessary to burn down an entire building for one man and his files. Someone could’ve been hurt, and—”

“Shut up,” Magneto growls, reaching out with his hands in a gesture X has come to understand as Magneto’s way of interacting with metal. X does as he’s told, but taps his foot with impatience.

After a tense moment, Magneto pushes himself off the floor and into the air. “We need to leave. The building is about to come down.”

“Right,” X says, turning to walk back to the window. “Good. Could you be a dear and hold it up for me while I get back down there?”

The question is barely out of his mouth before the whole room shifts, the fire flaring around them. Magneto curses loudly and shoves X out of the window and away from the building, catching him in that strange magnetic field he’s able to manipulate to fly—or maybe it’s the iron in his blood, X has never been quite sure of the specifics. Behind them, the building collapses in on itself in a burst of heat and light and noise. The people on the ground are in chaos, running to escape falling debris and reunite with their families, but Charles can tell that no one has been seriously injured.

Glancing back at Magneto from where he’s awkwardly suspended in the air, X asks, “Can you set me down now? And possibly take off your helmet? I think you owe some people a pretty thorough explanation.”

Magneto curses again, in German this time, and says, “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

“Yes, but—” X starts to say, but lets out a horribly undignified squeak instead when Magneto pushes him forward instead of lowering him down. The field or whatever it is always sets X’s hair on end and being moved through the air with no visible support has never been anything less than unnerving.

After catching his breath, he says, “A little warning next time, please. This flying thing isn’t exactly natural for everyone. And I asked you to set me down! If you don’t, I’ll have to call for Havok or Banshee,” he pauses to wave his fingers next to his forehead threateningly, “and then _they’ll_ knock us right out of the sky, or—fire. Magneto, you’re on fire!”

“What?” Magneto asks, pulling them to a stop that makes X’s stomach drop.

“Your cape is on fire!” X says, once he’s recovered himself. And it’s true; the hem of the purple cape is alight with flame, trailing behind Magneto in the breeze.

With an aborted attempt to pat out the flames against his legs and a few awkward flailing motions, Magneto finally manages to unclasp the cape and let it fall away from his shoulders. He watches it smolder on the ground for a moment and X swears he almost looks sad, but then he’s back to glaring and grumbling.

“Thank you,” Magneto grunts, and steers them through the air, away from the building, the fire, his victims, and the policemen waiting to take him away.

X sighs and crosses his arms over his chest in what he hopes is a good imitation of frustration as he lets Magneto take him along. To be quite honest, he doesn’t really want Magneto to be taken to prison; it would make his job much less interesting.

4.

The small plane is already on the runway with its propellers winding up when Magneto arrives. It has taken him too long to figure out when and how his target was planning to flee the country, but ultimately it doesn’t seem like that lapse will matter. He has to be pretty stupid to think he can escape from Magneto in his private plane.

Reaching out an arm as he approaches the plane, Magneto wrenches off its door, curling it in on itself and tossing it off the runway. “You can’t get away from me that easily,” he growls, pulling himself up into the doorway and letting the metal of the plane groan menacingly around him. But then he stops, suspended in the doorway, and lets out a choked noise that’s half anger and half surprise.

“Hello, Magneto,” the Professor says from the pilot’s seat where he’s sitting, hands folded behind his head and legs propped up on the controls. There’s even a smug grin pulling at his lips.

Magneto stares at the Professor for a moment and finds that he isn’t exactly surprised, nor is he really all that angry. He hadn’t even realized before this moment that the Professor knew about this target at all—Magneto had thought he’d been _subtle_ this time, which, he’ll admit, he isn’t every time. The fact that the Professor is one step ahead of him, though, is rather refreshing, actually—not that he will ever let the Professor know that. He sneers to cover up his amusement and is once again glad of his helmet.

“Where is he?” Magneto demands. Even if he’s not upset that the Professor is here, he still needs to find his target; the man can’t be allowed to escape after what he’s done. Twisting one hand, Magneto contorts the metal panel by the Professor’s head as a threat, and is only marginally disappointed when the Professor doesn’t even flinch.

“I imagine he and Detective MacTaggert are most of the way to the police station by now,” the Professor says, pursing his lips and tilting his head from side to side noncommittally, somehow managing to maintain a look of level-headed confidence.

With an annoyed growl, Magneto pulls the Professor towards him with the aid of the paneling he’s just liberated from the wall—the Professor had long ago replaced all the fastenings on his ridiculous blue and yellow getup with plastic and Velcro, much to Magneto’s frustration. There’s a short scuffle as the Professor struggles to keep balance in the small space of the cockpit, or at least to get his feet under him as he’s pulled out of his lazy sprawl. Magneto has very little sympathy and hopes that next time, the Professor won’t let him catch him with his feet up.

The Professor accidentally lands a few kicks on the control panel and gets one foot shoved up against the steering controls. Magneto can’t help but smirk as the plane starts to move in a slow, tight circle on the runway, its engines roaring to life, ready to fly. The Professor is letting out a low string of out-of-character curses and trying to dislodge his foot. As amusing as all of this is, it’s too great of a distraction, so Magneto reaches out and halts the plane.

Taking a long, relieved breath, the Professor glances up at Magneto, says, “Thanks for that,” and lands a solid kick right to Magneto’s chest with his free foot, pushing Magneto a few feet back into the open air outside the plane.

Magneto is immobilized for a moment for a number of reasons, the least of which is that he’s slightly winded and the first of which is that he _loves_ it when the Professor uses violence—a rare and wonderful occurrence. It takes them both a moment to realize that the plane has started to turn again, the Professor smirking with triumph from his awkward position across the cockpit and Magneto floating, still slightly stunned, in mid-air outside the door.

There’s a tug at Magneto’s shoulders and it takes him a split-second to realize that his cape has been caught in the plane’s propeller and that he’ll be pulled in with it if he doesn’t do something fast, and _everything_ is happening too fast. Reaching out wildly with his powers, Erik tries to stop the propeller, or maybe detach his cape. He can hear, distantly it seems, the Professor calling his name, but quite suddenly, the runway is quiet, save for the Professor’s rather labored breathing and the blood pounding in Magneto’s ears. The plane’s engines are silent, the propellers frozen with Magneto’s cape hanging loosely from the propeller behind him, blowing gently in the breeze like a battered flag.

The Professor is staring at him, eyes wide behind his mask, and Magneto lets out what he hopes is a calm and collected laugh. He suspects it comes across as more of a crazed chuckle, but he can’t really take it back now.

“I think,” the Professor says slowly, adjusting some dials on the control panels before him, “that we’ve had quite enough tonight.”

Magneto can feel the plane’s engines die for good and releases his hold on the plane. Lowering himself to the ground, he nods in agreement, conceding the evening to the Professor. With a spike of misery, he realizes that, not only has he lost his target tonight, but his cape as well.

Looking up, Magneto can see that the Professor has moved to sit in the gaping doorway of the plane, his feet dangling over the ledge. Belatedly, Magneto notices that the Professor’s shoulders are shaking slightly and he wonders how much he’s been affected by this scare. It becomes apparent a moment later, though, that the Professor is merely laughing. Soon, the deep rich sound of it is echoing across the abandoned runway and Magneto shivers—in annoyance, of course.

“You’ve got to get rid of that cape,” the Professor says between gasps for air. “Not only does it make you look _ridiculous_ , it’s going to get you _killed_.”

Glowering up at the Professor, Magneto says, “Do be quiet.” He likes the cape. He likes it and it looks _threatening_ and he’s not getting rid of it. _Ever_. “I’m not getting rid of it,” he says out loud, to reassure himself. “Besides, it’s your fault anyway. If you were less clumsy and your damn feet hadn’t gotten in the way,” he trails off and hopes it’s menacing.

The Professor is still grinning down at him, completely un-menaced. “Sure,” the Professor agrees easily, the cocky bastard.

“I’m leaving,” Magneto says—not at all sulkily—and turns away to storm off down the runway.

With a final bark of laughter, the Professor calls after him, “Don’t get too cold on the way home!”

The fence running along the runway collapses in on itself.

3.

As much as X sometimes admires Magneto’s goals and actions, there are times that he just can’t comprehend his logic. Yes, the mall is exclusively for humans, and yes, mutants are punished unfairly severely for entering, but this doesn’t exactly warrant Magneto locking the doors during high business hours and terrorizing the masses. Luckily, X had been (almost illegally) near enough to the mall to intervene.

Even though Magneto is wearing his infinitely frustrating helmet, he’s easy to locate by the sound of his laughter. He’s hovering halfway between the second and third floor of the mall in the main atrium, arms outspread as he pulls at the metal on random people in the crowd, tugging them back towards him (and sometimes into the air) as they flee in fear. No one is paying any attention to X at all, despite his attempts to calm the chaos around him. Much to his frustration, X realizes that it’s more important to restore some order to the mall at the moment than to deal with Magneto—something that requires more finesse with this many people around.

Magneto, on the other hand, isn’t going to make that easy, X realizes, as Magneto pulls one man up and out of the crowd, dangling him by his belt buckle and watch high above the chaos. X can see Magneto’s lips moving, knows he’s saying something that’s probably important if X wants to stop him, but X can’t hear anything over the panic of the crowd; not even the man Magneto has singled out can hear what Magneto is saying.

With a sigh of frustration, X jams his finger to his forehead and concentrates on all the minds around him, grabbing them all with less grace than he likes. Silence falls in the mall as all the minds and bodies freeze in unison under X’s influence, even the man Magneto has hanging in the air. Magneto, too falls quiet, searching the crowd in annoyance.

“Finally,” X says, catching Magneto’s eye and smiling up at him. “I couldn’t hear myself think in all this!”

Magneto scowls and lowers his current prey to the floor, dropping him only when he’s close enough to do no real harm. “What are you doing here, Professor?” Magneto hisses, hovering menacingly with his hands resting on his hips. X only barely manages not to laugh at the ridiculous pose—there are more important things to focus on.

“I should be asking you that question,” X says, picking his way through the frozen crowd so he can more easily hold a conversation with Magneto.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Magneto asks, nose twitching as he lifts his chin to gesture around him. “This place is despicable and someone needs to know that we won’t tolerate it any longer.”

Sighing, X says, “Terrorizing their patrons and destroying their property probably won’t win you any favors with their administrators.”

Magneto’s eyes blaze with anger. “Writing them letters won’t do anything, either!” he says, sinking slowly down, like he can’t stop his desire to get right up in X’s face—he probably can’t. “Organizing protests and boycotts won’t do any good here! This is the only option they’ve left for us! Can’t you see?”

“You don’t know that nothing else will work. Have you even talked to a lawyer about this?” X asks. He knows; he has talked with a lawyer about it, and they are making quite a bit of headway into building a case that they can take to trial.

Sinking lower, Magneto opens his mouth to (most likely) yell some more, but he’s jerked back and lets out a startled yell instead. For a moment, X can’t tell what’s happening. All he knows is a sudden spike of worry for Magneto’s safety, before he sees it. Magneto’s bright purple cape is caught in the escalator behind him, going from the ground floor to the first, tearing him out of the air and down onto its shining black steps as it cycles up in its endless loop.

“God dammit!” Magneto yells before he can really assess the situation himself, his hands tugging at his cape in an attempt to pull it back to him.

X laughs, unable to control himself. It’s _Magneto, Master of Magnetism_ and he’s stuck in an _escalator_. X keeps laughing, even as Magneto tears the escalator apart with a violent sweep of his arm to free his cape from its grasp. “Your face!” X gasps as Magneto glares down at him.

“Be quiet,” Magneto commands, landing gracefully on the ground in front of X despite the tattered ends of his cape.

“Sorry,” X says, tipping his head in apology even though he knows that his laughter is still apparent in his tone.

Glaring for a moment longer, probably waiting for X to stop laughing entirely, Magneto gestures around at the frozen crowd and says, “Now put them back to normal. I need to find out who’s responsible for their newest security amendment.”

That sounds exactly like how Magneto _should_ sound, but X can’t stop thinking about how Magneto has just been ripped from the air by his own cape because of an escalator—a perfectly metal contraption. Not that X would comply with Magneto’s wishes under normal circumstances, but he’s somehow even less threatening now. “Why don’t you just turn around and walk right out the door—or maybe go out the roof, that’s probably safer. I’m not going to let you hurt anyone here,” X says, finally managing to compose himself.

“As if I would ever leave without what I came for,” Magneto growls, leaning closer. X tries not to enjoy looking into his eyes.

Smiling as pleasantly as he can, X says, “Do you honestly think they’ll take you seriously after catching that on their security cameras?”

Magneto pales and twists around to look at the discreet cameras around the room. “I thought I took them all out—” he starts to say, before rounding back on X with a scowl. “Stop trying to distract me.”

X feels his smile softening. “I’m only trying to help,” he says, bringing his fingers back up to his temple. “The police are surrounding the building now, and I just thought you’d like to get out of here before they make their way _in_.”

“I don’t need your help,” Magneto grumbles, but glances warily at the large glass doors behind him.

“Of course not,” X says smoothly, tapping his forehead as he considers their options. “I, on the other hand, would like to get out of here before the guns arrive.” There’s nothing else to say to convince Magneto of anything, however, so X nods a farewell and walks off into the crowd. He doesn’t let a single person’s mind loose until he hears Magneto curse behind him, which is quickly followed by the twisting sound of a metal frame and the sharp crash of shattering glass.

When he glances back, Magneto has disappeared out the massive window in the ceiling. “Another small victory,” X says, letting the minds around him trickle slowly back into awareness as the police begin to push in the newly unmagnetized doors.

2.

“Well,” the Professor says from the cell across from Magneto’s, “we’ve managed to really do ourselves in this time, haven’t we?”

Magneto scowls through the dark. “It was no fault of mine,” he grumbles, shifting against the unforgiving rock of the cave. Most mutant-containment facilities are plastic or glass, not rock and wood, and the change is interesting, if not horribly frustrating at the same time.

There’s a small commotion in the Professor’s cell that Magneto can only assume is the Professor lying down on the hard floor, but he can’t really be sure. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” the Professor sing-songs back at him, his voice vaulting across the arced ceiling this time. “You _did_ pull me out of the way and disrupt my control over the driver of that truck.”

“You would’ve been killed!” Magneto spits. “You should be thanking me. Although now I’m not so sure I should have saved you in the first place.”

The Professor laughs, the light tone of which grates on Erik’s nerves. “Don’t be that way,” the Professor says, sounding perfectly happy despite their bleak surroundings. “We got into this together and I’m sure that we’ll be able to find a way out together if we just allow ourselves a moment to think—brainstorm, if you will.”

Sneering in the direction of the Professor’s cell, Magneto says, “Why don’t you go back to your classroom, Professor, and leave the fighting for the real heroes.”

“You’re a self-professed villain, you know,” the Professor states smoothly, the smile never once leaving his voice, even if Magneto can’t see it in the dark.

Blood boiling, Magneto resists the urge to lash out—it would most likely only result in a splinter from the cell’s wooden bars. “You know what I meant,” he hisses instead.

With another small laugh, the Professor says, “Now, now, Magneto darling, don’t assume your audience knows how you define terms—it’s poor form.”

There’s a distinctly feminine sounding groan and the dull rap of plastic baton on rock and Magneto’s attention is pulled to their guard. “Would the two of you please shut up,” the human demands through her awkwardly crafted psychic-blocking helmet. “You sound like an old married couple.”

Glaring at her and opening his mouth for the perfect, scathing retort, Magneto is interrupted by a thoughtful hum from the Professor. “I’ve always thought that was a good analogy, too,” the Professor says, no trace of irony in his tone.

“Jesus Christ,” the guard grumbles, and Magneto can’t help but agree with her exasperation.

“Sorry, dear,” the Professor says, and Magneto doesn’t know whom he’s addressing.

The guard shifts, the rustling of the bulky fabric of her uniform loud in the echoing cave. “Excuse me?” she asks, and Magneto can see as she walks slowly towards the Professor’s cell.

Suddenly, there’s a rumbling in the distance and the entire cave begins to shake. It’s not a normal earthquake, and Magneto worries for a moment that they will all be crushed or left to suffocate with no way out. This is far from Magneto’s ideal death.

“What the hell are you doing?” the guard demands, turning fast and glaring down at Magneto in his cell as she holds onto the wooden bars for balance.

Before Magneto can say anything, however, the Professor calls through the growing din, “Actually, dear, this would be me—or my friend, at least. You’ve heard of Havok before, yes?”

Magneto has never been quite so relieved to hear Havok’s name in his life, but he absolutely will not let that show on his face. Instead, he pushes himself to his feet and stalks forward to face the guard. “Let us out and maybe I can convince the Professor to call off his dogs,” he growls, earning him a laugh from both the guard and the Professor.

“Somehow I doubt that,” the guard says, turning and nearly running out the tunnel exit. “Don’t think this is the end,” she calls back. Typical.

There’s a moment of silence, save the rumbling of the mountainside around them, before the Professor says, “Well, this is working nicely.”

Eyebrow twitching with annoyance, Magneto says, “We came here to rescue some children and now we’re going to be killed by your ally. How is this working, again?”

Before Magneto even finishes his sentence, Darwin comes running into view, his fists large as they pull at the wooden bars of the Professor’s cell. “Hello, Darwin,” the Professor says happily. “It is very good to see you.”

“We’ve gotta get moving, Professor,” Darwin says, bouncing on his heels. “Havok’s bringing the whole facility down once Beast’s out with the kids.”

“Yes, yes,” the Professor says as he carefully steps over the wreckage of his cell. “Just free our friend here and point us toward the exit. I’m sure we can all manage.”

Darwin eyes Magneto warily for only a moment, before tearing apart the bars to his cell as well. “Only because the Professor insisted,” he mutters for Magneto’s ears only. Magneto grunts in response.

“Don’t let us hold you up, Darwin,” the Professor says, still sounding at ease. “Go catch up with Beast and help him with the kids.” This time, Darwin doesn’t hesitate at all to follow the Professor’s orders, taking off down the hall with a speed that he doesn’t normally possess.

Magneto stalks after him, knowing that the Professor will follow as he calls back through the rumbling, “We’re going to die, you know.” To make his point for him, a rock falls directly behind him.

“You just have to move a little faster,” the Professor says, sounding a little more urgent as he pushes at Magneto’s elbow. Magneto whole-heartedly agrees with this course of action, but he only makes it a few feet before being pulled to an abrupt stop.

The cape is stuck. It’s stuck underneath a giant rock that Magneto is too drained at the moment to even think of lifting.

The Professor makes an exasperated noise and turns to glare at him, his frustrated expression twisting into shock. “Oh!” he exclaims and drops down to his knees to pull at the cape behind Magneto, where he can’t see.

Closing his eyes, Magneto draws in a shuddering breath as he tries to come to terms with this—with being stuck in a collapsing cavern, too drained to even undo the fused clasps of his cape. “Professor,” he says. “Just leave it. Go. Save yourself.”

“Oh, hush,” the Professor snaps, hitting Magneto’s calf half-heartedly. “You’re always so dramatic.” Another rock falls, nearly landing on the Professors feet.

“This isn’t me being dramatic!” Magneto growls, glaring behind him at the Professor.

There’s a sharp tearing sound in the dark and suddenly Magneto is falling forward, loosed from the rock. “What did you—” he gasps, stumbling and looking back to see the Professor grinning at him and waving what must be a ceramic knife. There’s a strip of jaggedly cut purple fabric poking out from under the fallen rock.

“When did you…?” Magneto begins to ask, but the Professor is jumping to his feet and pulling them down the swiftly collapsing tunnel.

“Doesn’t matter, darling,” the Professor says with a soft smile. “But you can thank Beast.”

In the safety of the forest outside the cave, Magneto turns to the Professor with a glare. “You could’ve used that to get us out earlier!” he starts. “And you ruined my cape!”

The Professor nods gravely. “Yes, I’m sorry,” he says slowly, but his frown morphs into a grin. “It’s an awful cape. You should be thanking me.”

Magneto splutters for a moment and the Professor pats him on the arm. “And now, my friend,” the Professor says, “I must go.”

1.

 

It’s not that Magneto is the worst villain around, he’s just X’s favorite. And X knows that Magneto has a few (even more villainous) enemies of his own, who, conveniently, are also out for X himself. The Hellfire Club, for example, a notorious gang of mutants out for world domination, have targeted both Magneto and X on many occasions. But usually they’re smart enough not to attack them at the _same time_.

It’s silly, really, X thinks as Magneto magnetizes a struggling Angel to the nearest fire escape. That they can put aside their differences so easily to take on this gang makes X wonder what it would be like to have a real team, with Magneto by his side. Aggravating to the point of migraine, no doubt, but most likely _powerful_ and more useful than either of them on their own.

There’s a shift in the fray as the Black King, the leader of the Hellfire Club, arrives on the scene. X is suddenly locked in a mental stalemate with the Black King’s second-in-command, the White Queen, another (not quite as) talented telepath.

“Sorry, old friend,” X calls to Magneto, “looks like you’re on your own for now.”

Magneto grunts in response, his entire focus on figuring out how to pin down the teleporter Azazel, whom X has just been forced to release.

For a moment, X regrets not calling the other benevolent mutants he’s acquainted with. Beast, Havok, Banshee, and Mystique would be very helpful in a situation like this, but it has been so natural to work with Magneto alone. It is, however, a potentially lethal miscalculation to forget the White Queen in all her diamond glory.

“My, my, my. What do we have here?” the Black King asks, calling his lackeys to his side.

“What does it look like?” Magneto growls as he and X square off against the Hellfire Club. X has a few things to say to the Black King himself, but with his fingers jammed to his temple to counter the White Queen, he doesn’t have attention to spare.

The Black King grins. “It’s just, you two make a highly unusual pair,” he says, as if that isn’t apparent to everyone present already. “I would have expected—”

Magneto cuts the Black King off. “No. I would never join you.” He says it with a grain of anger and frustration that startles X.

Years ago, when Magneto had first appeared on the mutant crime scene, it had seemed inevitable that he would be recruited by the Hellfire Club, their goals and methods lining up almost perfectly. Even with the personal grudge Magneto seems to hold against the Black King, X expects he is still at risk. To hear Magneto deny the Black King so strongly is surprising and exciting and X almost drops his counter-attack on the White Queen to stare.

With a dismissive sniff, the Black King says, “Pity,” and flicks his fingers to send his gang in for another attack.

This time, with X preoccupied with the White Queen and two more bodies in the fray, the odds are against them. Magneto holds his own against Angel, Azazel, and Riptide for a few moments, but when the Black King himself steps forward, his luck runs out.

The second the Black King gets his hands on Magneto, he sends him soaring over the edge of the building and X cannot help him. The Black King turns to grin at X and X’s stomach sinks. He can’t be captured by the Hellfire Club. That would be disastrous—because X would die rather than let them control him, and he’s really not too keen on that. Magneto _needs_ to come back right now or else—

And Magneto does come back over the ledge of the building, floating up, his cape billowing around him as he—quite overdramatically—growls his rage.

Azazel _bamfs_ up to him, clearly going for surprise, but Magneto shoves him away with a pulse of magnetic energy that catches at the fastenings of Azazel’s clothes. While X might have learned early on the dangers of metal in one’s uniform when fighting Magneto, not many others seem to have figured it out yet.

Riptide lets out a small twister that runs along the side of the roof. Magneto doesn’t see it, with his back turned, and X notices too late to stop it. He reaches out to put Riptide to sleep, but the twister has already done its damage. Magneto’s cape whirls up behind him, yanking him back over the edge of the building.

X drops his hand from his head, hoping he can keep the White Queen out of his mind without the focus point, and runs to the roof’s edge, reaching his hand out for Magneto. It won’t do to have him fall to his death, not now (or ever, really), and it’s a relief to feel the weight of Magneto in his hand, even with the added pull of the twister.

Behind him, X can hear the Black King laughing and he knows that he’s cornered now, his back open and vulnerable. “Don’t be stupid,” Magneto yells at him, his grip on X’s wrist loosening—X digs his fingers into Magnet’s wrist to compensate. “I’ll be fine. I can fly, remember?”

It’s logical, but X’s heart is still pounding at the thought of Magneto being swept away by a force of nature neither of them can control. “Be quiet,” he says, the hairs on his neck prickling as the Black King moves closer, “I’m going to help you.”

Magneto growls a few choice words at the Black King, whom X assumes he can see over his shoulder. X can certainly _feel_ him there, and it’s making him more than a little nervous and claustrophobic.

Suddenly, there’s an explosion of reddish light to X’s right and a comforting roar from a neighboring roof. Havok and Beast, always there when X really needs them. Glancing over his shoulder while keeping his grip on Magneto, X can see the Hellfire Club retreating across the darkened roof as Havok and Beast close in.

“You’re an idiot,” Magneto says as X pulls him up, the twister dissipating into the night.

X grins at him, feeling suddenly light. “We’ve won, though,” he says, patting Magneto’s shoulder.

Magneto sneers under his helmet and X wishes he could see into his mind. “ _We_ didn’t do anything,” Magneto says, crossing his arms over his chest while he tracks Havok’s and Beast’s progress, “your friends did. _We_ made a giant mess of things. Mostly you.”

Standing this close to Magneto, however, his hand still on his arm, X imagines he can feel Magneto’s gratitude and relief. It’s probably nothing, but it takes away the bite of his words. “They are rather brilliant, aren’t they?” he asks.

With a snort, Magneto brushes his hand away and takes off in the direction of the fray. X takes a moment to appreciate the way Magneto’s cape hangs loosely off one shoulder before following. He really needs to do something about that.

0.

Once he’s certain Charles is asleep, Erik slips out of bed as quietly as he can, steadying the frame and the springs with practiced ease. He has a routine for this, sliding out of bed, tiptoeing to the linen closet in the hallway for his uniform and helmet, changing silently in the bathroom and slipping out the window into the night; he’s done it enough times to be completely silent while he maneuvers through the dark, avoiding even Charles’ rumpled clothes to help maintain the illusion that he never leaves bed at night—not that trying to hide things from Charles ever really works.

Except tonight, after he’s put on his pants and jacket and boots, combed his hair into perfection and is about to don his helmet to truly become Magneto, he realizes that his cape is missing. His _cape_ is _missing_. A quiet, panicked noise catches in his throat as that thought sinks in. Since his cape wasn’t with the rest of his uniform, he’ll have to go out and search for it, risk turning on lights and making noise and waking Charles—or worse, Charles might’ve already discovered it if Erik has been careless and left it somewhere around the apartment.

As quietly as he can, Erik tiptoes back to the linen closet to make sure he hasn’t just left the cape under the ratty old towels on the back of the top shelf. He hasn’t. Cursing silently, he debates the pros and cons of going back into the bedroom to search through his dresser versus going out on his mission without his cape. He has an image to uphold, goddammit! But the mission might as well be ruined if he wakes Charles.

“Think, Lehnsherr,” he mutters under his breath, trying to remember the last place that he had his cape.

It had been torn up by some dogs on Tuesday night and he’d had to spend the better part of his free time the next day mending it in the laundry room of the apartment complex, away from Charles. He might’ve left it there, but no, he’d never leave it in _public_. So it has to be here, in the apartment— _in the laundry basket_. And that’s still in the living room, waiting for Charles to sort the clothes that Erik had meticulously washed and folded two days earlier.

With a sigh of relief, Erik slips into the living room, making a beeline straight for the laundry basket by the couch. But he stops short, freezes entirely, when he’s reminded suddenly that he’s not the only person in the apartment who can move around silently.

“Hello, Erik,” Charles says from where he’s seated on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that is an uncannily familiar shade of purple in the dark. His voice is thick with sleep and Erik fights the urge to curl up with Charles on the couch and go back to sleep.

For a moment, Erik doesn’t know what to say or do. He feels like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, standing in front of Charles in most of his Magneto uniform while Charles is wrapped in his cape on the couch. It is mortifying and strangely arousing and it has to be put right. Stumbling over a few possible responses for a moment, Erik lets his embarrassment slip into anger and finally demands, “Give me back my cape, Charles.”

Charles smirks up at him before standing slowly, stretching so the moonlight coming through the window catches the line of his throat just so, and saying, “You could just go without it. It looks much better as a blanket than as part of your supervillain image.”

Erik growls and grabs at the cape, but stops pulling when Charles doesn’t immediately let it go. “It’s my cape and my image,” he says hotly, “and I can do what I want with them”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, still smirking. He twists and slips the cape off of his shoulders to wrap it around Erik’s, his smirk smoothing out into a smile as Erik helps him fasten it.

When they’re done, Charles doesn’t move back, but turns his eyes up to Erik and says, “Or you could just leave the helmet in the bathroom. That’s a good compromise. You look much better just like this.”

“Charles,” Erik grinds out in warning. He hates arguing about the helmet.

But Charles laughs softly and reaches up to pull him into a kiss. Erik huffs and breaks, pressing into the kiss, almost pushing Charles back down onto the couch before he catches himself. As lovely as it would be to stay, he has a mission.

Charles makes a frustrated noise in his throat and pulls back slightly. “You could stay,” he says against Erik’s lips. “You’re already late.”

“You know I can’t,” Erik says, but can’t bring himself to move away.

Charles gives Erik an incredulous look that slowly breaks into a grin. Erik watches warily as Charles sidesteps around him, gently pulling at his cape and letting it run through his fingers as he makes his way over to the window to lean against the sill. “Alright,” Charles says playfully, reaching into the pocket of his robe and pulling out a small, navy blue mask that he slips onto his face, “but I’m only giving you a ten minute head start, Magneto.”

Erik grins and says, “I love you,” before all but running to the bathroom to collect his helmet and disappear out the window. Professor X is never late, and Erik doesn’t want to be the one to spoil their date this time.


End file.
